I don’t really like giving out information about the upcoming chapters or the story in the long shot. But right now, the story may be cancelled, so I think it’s important. So here we go.

To those whom it may concern: Despite the title and the wants of my OC’s, there will be NO STUDENT/TEACHER relationships. NONE! ZIP! ZERO!!

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own any of the Harry potter characters—that all belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling. Also, I don’t own Orlando Bloom—he’s a real person. And I don’t own star wars. That’s a movie.
2. Is Dating a Professor, Even Legal?

“What’s so impressive about him anyway?” Oscar asked us, very grumble-y.

I shushed him and continued to stare.

It was Emily that ended us answering him. “Scorpius Malfoy,” she explained, “Is rich and famous. That is explanation enough.”

I nodded, “Plus the fact that he’s totally gorgey-porgey.”

Oscar was silent for a second, letting us take in all of Scorpius Malfoy’s fabulousness. “It’s weird, you know?” I muttered to Emily, “He’s like, the son of Harry potter’s arch nemesis not to mention the guy who practically killed Dumbledore and he’s one of the most loved guys in the school. Isn’t that weird?”

Emily shook her head, “Not...” she said slowly, “When you look like that.”

Hmm. Point taken.

Scorpius Malfoy was literally a gift from the gods. People told me that he took after his Dad, who even at Middle-Age was still sexy. If this is so, then Mrs Scorpius’s Mum is a very lucky woman.

How many boys do you know with grey eyes? With grey eyes that made people feel like they were practically melting.

“I wonder what conditioner he uses.” I said after a moment of silence.

Oscar and Emily both snorted at this. I shrugged, “Hey. His hair looks... Make-out-able...”

Emily nodded, “Mh-hmm...” She said nodding. “So Soft and...Blonde.”

Oscar sounded disappointed for a moment. “My hair is blonde...” He said grudgingly, looking at a strand of his own hair.

At this I had to look at him. “You’re hair is light-brown.” I corrected him. “There is only a smidge of blonde about it.”

He shook his head. “Nu-uhh... A girl I met told me it was blonde.”

I smirked. Emily pulled her eyes away from The God momentarily to smirk with me and look at Oscar. “Charmaine told me last night that she liked brunette boys.”

Oscar was silent for a second.

“It’s only blonde in the summer. It’s brown the rest of the time.”

I slapped my palm against my forehead, and grabbed a piece of my toast. While crunching, I looked at Emily. “Where’s Eric?” I asked, once I had swallowed.

Emily shrugged, “What am I?” she demanded, “His personal GPS? How should I know where that weirdo is?”

I shrugged, “I figured you would have seen him this morning.”

Eric was on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. We were winning on the ladder. We weren’t beating Gryffindor, obviously, or Slytherin, but where the actual beatable competition lay was with the Ravenclaws and this year, we were beating them. This meant technically, we were coming third.

But, this aside, Emily had gotten up at who-knows-when o’clock this morning, just to go watch practice. Why would this have been?

Because she was a good friend? Ha.

Because she was a patriotic Hufflepuff? Pfft, No.

Because Professor Wood had told the team that he would personally take them out and give them some pointers this morning? Aha! We have a winner!

“Sure I saw him,” she muttered, picking up a piece of bacon with her fork. “I just didn’t pay much attention to him after my beloved came out.”

Merlin, this girl was far past reasonable.

I remember once, when I tried to convince Em about how horrible it was to actually crush on your teacher. It had resulted in one of the largest fights we had ever had. I had ended up grovelling for her forgiveness, which she had given to me.

“Did you see him after practice?” I asked with a frown.

Emily turned to me, pointing at me accusingly with her bacon-ey fork. “Why all this sudden interest with Eric? You fancy him or something?”

I choked on my toast. Oscar hastily handed me his juice, which I drank after swallowing the chewed up toast. Once I had fully recovered I turned to Emily. “What are you talking about?” I spluttered.

“You’ve been asking heaps of questions about Eric,” Emily said with a shrug, “That’s all.”

I had to splutter for a couple more minutes. “That is the most disturbing assumption you have ever made.” I coughed, taking another gulp of Pumpkin juice.

“Even the one about Professor Slughorn and Professor McGonagall.”

I winced at the memory.

“Okay.” I said graciously. “Second worst.”

Emily looked ready to reply but I missed it on account of Professor MacMillan walking down the aisle between us and Ravenclaw.

“Ah, Miss Cook and Miss Dalton?” The Prof said smiling down at me. “Good holidays?”

Emily nodded, but I kicked her in the shin before she could recount the vivid tale of Romano and his tongue to our Head of House. She flinched but stopped talking.

“They were great, Professor.” I said smiling.

He laughed, “Very good. Here are you’re timetables.” I looked at the parchment and frowned. The first thing I had today was Charms and then Transfiguration. That was going to be a problem.

I used to be excellent at Charms. Then I got all lazy and forgot to study for my final exam, forgot everything that happened last year and got a P in my OWLS. So naturally, it was bad.

“Now, Miss Dalton...” Professor Macmillan said slowly. “I saw your Charms score on your O.W.Ls.” I flushed. “I need you to meet me in my office this afternoon, after classes, and we’ll talk about what we can do.”

I nodded, and looked right back at my timetable, the blush so obviously rising in my cheeks.

Great, just what I needed. Embarrassment this early in the morning can’t be good for you.

“Right then, sir...” I muttered. “See you there.”

He smiled at me and then move don to Oscar with a bright, “Good morning, Mr Forest.”

I turned to look at Emily with a frown. “Hot boys can be the only remedy.” I sighed, letting my head rest in my arms.

I gagged. “You know what Em...” I said after swallowing the bile that had risen in my throat. “That goes past all those creepy assumptions.”

I smirked as I drew the smile onto the small smiley face on the corner of my parchment. This problem I had with doodling would be the death of me.

“Miss Dalton?” I heard my teacher asked coolly. My head swung up and I blushed. “Are you paying attention to my class?”

Professor Dennis Creevey was a small man. Not as small as his predecessor- Flitwick was a small man. But Creevey was relatively small. He had curly blonde hair and a scar across his eyes from when he fought in the war.

And according to my horny best friend he was the second best looking male teacher in this school.

I mumbled something that I didn’t even understand. There was a small round of giggles from everyone else in the class.

My face heated up.

“Uh...” I stuttered. “Yes?”

Professor Creevey smirked at me and leant down on my desk. “Then, would you kindly illustrate the action and spell I just spoke about?”

I nodded, and reached for my stupid wand which was sitting on the corner of my desk. Looking around I saw Oscar holding up a piece of parchment that said in large capital letter “CIRCLE AND POKE!”

I lifted my wand, and blushed to see my own hands shaking. I twirled the wand in a circle and then poked through the middle of it, sending a jet of yellow light towards the black board at the front of the class room.

A piece of chalk exploded and there was a round of impressed murmurs. I smirked and turned to the Professor.

He was laughing.

“Very well done, Miss Dalton,” He said smiling, “Unfortunately, Mr Forest will not be able to exhibit signs for you during your exams.”

I blushed. Darn it.

“Please try to focus in my class, in the future, Miss Dalton.” Professor Creevey said smiling. “I would hate to see you fail.” Again.

I winced at the words he left unsaid. I turned back to my paper and scribbled out the jovial smiley-face. After mortification like that, smiley faces seemed only mundane.

I bent my head and let my hair fall over my flaming face. Everyone was chuckling to themselves.

I turned to look at Oscar, who shrugged. I saw him scrunch up the paper in his hand and toss it to the side. It missed the bin by a long shot, but he just pointed his wand at it, levitating it into the bin.

Poo head.

I stumbled into Professor Macmillan’s classroom with a groan. My trip to get there had been less than entertaining.

After fleeing my last class for the day, (potions, unfortunately) I had realised that I was at the bottom of the school and the Professor’s office was on the fourth floor. Plus I had to be there in five minutes.

Silently cursing the stupid prick who decided to put the Potions room in the Dungeons, I had galloped my way up to the office. Only, my being the fabulous sophisticated person I was, I managed to slip on the trick step and topple gracefully back to the bottom of the stair where I face planted.

Thank Merlin that Emily had given me that self-cushioning charm necklace to put on. So my fall didn’t really hurt when I fell. The only thing that I lost was the tiny remaining part of my dignity after sixteen years of this.

“Ah,” Professor Macmillan said smiling, “You’re finally here.”

I contemplated calling him multiple bad words.

He chuckled, “Best not to think things like that while in the presence of a mind reader.” He said smirking.

“You’re a legimens?” I squeaked. Crap. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry!

Professor shook his head. “No. I just know what you’re thinking when you pull faces like that.”

I quickly tried to straighten my traitorous face.

“Alas,” The Prof continued. “I did see you’re fall on the way up to my office, so I forgive you.”

I spluttered.

“You saw that?” I coughed. “Wha…”

Professor laughed. “I think I can be expected to actually check your timetable as I give them out. I didn’t expect you to be immediately in my office this afternoon.”

Oh God. Now he tells me.

“I’ll let you off for being three minutes late next time. Best not stress yourself.” The Prof laughed, “Please, Dalton, take a seat.”

I frowned and plonked myself in the nearest chair.

With a sigh, the Professor followed me, sitting down in his yellow, Hufflepuff crested armchair.

“I understand I must speak with you about your grades in charms.” He said, his face quickly becoming serious.

Gulp.

“Dalton, do you have any idea what you want to do when you leave school?”

Not a bloody clue. As a matter of fact, I’ve been freaking out about it since my fourteenth birthday.

“No.” I answered out loud. “I haven’t thought about it.”

The Professor was silent for a second. He stared at me, his eyes almost pouring into my soul. Please don’t tell me that he was lying and is actually a legimens.

“Think about it for a second now. Tell me what automatically comes to your mind.”

I frowned and thought. I knew exactly what I wanted to do right after Hogwarts. I wanted to leave this school and get a job. Possibly find a hubby, and I could even become a wife for a living.

I figured that wasn’t what the Prof was talking about, though.

I had contemplated many jobs. I could follow in Professor Longbottom’s shoes and become the Herbology teacher. I could write a book like Gilderoy Lockhart (who is still good looking without a mind and being middle-aged,) and get really rich. I could even be the person who commentates for the world Quidditch games (even though I’d probably pass out from stage fright.)

But Hufflepuffs don’t do smart things like that—The Jobs, I mean, not the passing out—especially when they have grades like mine.

The best job offer I would probably have after leaving, is working as Goyle’s—the care-taker who I suspect has the IQ of a small chipmunk– second hand man.

Even though that guy could probably pass himself off as three guys, and therefore, would not need a second hand man.

“You see, Professor…” I started slowly. This was going to bug him, I was sure of it. I was wasting his time and he’d tell me to get out of his office and never return.

“Yes…?” The professor urged, smiling brightly at me.

I sighed and slouched in the chair. “I really have no clue.” I said seriously. “I mean, I’ve thought about it, and thought about it, but I just can’t figure anything out. I’m totally and completely lost when it comes to my future.”

He shrugged, “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

I nodded my head vigorously. “It is!” I said. “It becomes... horrible mind-numb-y thoughtless mush in my brain, and I can’t think of anything. Plus, if anyone mentions it to me, I freeze up and become all pale-ish and unresponsive-y...”

He smiled a bit at that, “Really?”

I nodded again. “It’s not pretty, sir.”

Professor Macmillan chuckled, and leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on his desk. “Right then...” he sighed smiling. “I suppose we’ll just have to start from scratch. What do you enjoy doing.”

I stared at him for a moment. This meeting was going to discern my future?

Great...

“What did he say?” Emily demanded as soon as I had returned.

I grumbled something incoherent. So incoherent even I didn’t really understand it. I wouldn’t have understood it anyway, considering I was still in a state of minor shock.

“Gave me more choices to mess around with my brain.” I muttered in reply. I threw my tired and partially dead body onto my bed, and let myself sink into the bright yellow and dull grey duvet. “Bloody Pillock.”

My mattress groaned and sunk lower as Emily sat down beside me. She stroked some of my hair away from my face and then lay back, using my stomach as a pillow. “I thought you liked Professor Macmillan.” I lifted my head from my pillow to regard her with a dry look. She rolled her eyes. “Not what I meant...” she said with a frown. “I meant as a Professor.”

I shrugged, letting my head fall back into my feather pillow. The plushiness was one of the upsides of the Hufflepuff common room was the constant softness that just plagues the room.

Even our ghost – the Fat friar would mark his three hundred and thirty fifth death day anniversary next Monday – and he was bordering obese. The mounds of ectoplasm-y skin that he had sort of just added to the softness.

I really just thought that didn’t I?

I pushed the thought of the Fat Friar’s see through skin flab and focused on my internal point. I still bet Slytherin didn’t have plushiness that came with the Hufflepuff tower. I bet all they had in their common room, was... pointy things.

I groaned, thinking about Emily’s point. Sometimes she was the most self absorbed girl and other times she just really knew what was going on.

“He’s smart. And I used to think he was cool. But not anymore.” I mumbled.

Emily sighed and I heard her giggle slightly. “Katie, darling,” She sighed, “I’m not an idiot. It’s sounds like one Professor Macmillan did something that pissed you off?”

I grumbled to myself.

“Did he come onto you?” Emily demanded. “Because he can get fired for that sort of thing.”

I lifted my head once more to stare at her. “Emily.” I said bluntly. “Not every man in this universe is an animal.” She frowned to herself, so I added, “Just the ones you date.”

She frowned deeper for a second, and then she shrugged and nodded her head. “Professor Wood isn’t like that.”

“No,” I sighed, shaking my head, and resting it back on my pillow, “Of course not.”

“And stop trying to change the topic.” Emily scolded. “What did Macmillan do that has you so evil-Katie-mode-ish?”

I sighed, and closed my eyes as tight as they could go.

It wasn’t as though I did dislike Macmillan. But did he need to highlight the fact that I am obviously not intelligent enough to get myself somewhere in life, by myself? I know I’m an idiot, but I can do some things.

I frowned and lent moodily against my bed stand. “Obviously, I do.” I groaned. “Because he’s found someone already?”

“Who?” Emily asked instantly. Then she started blabbering. “That’s ridiculous. We’ve only been back at school for a day. No one’s stupid enough to start a new school year and then add a heap more onto the work pile.”

I didn’t move. She leaned forward again and took my hands. “Katie. Who’s tutoring you?”

“Rose Weasley.” I mumbled, letting my head fall back and hit the hard head of the bed stand.

Emily let out an outraged scream of frustration. She then leaned forward and grabbed my face, pulling my to look at her. “You listen to me Katie.” She said sternly. “You do not need tutoring. You are a fabulous, smart person and it’s not up to the poofter who calls himself the head of our house to dictate your brain.”

I smiled at her, nodding, then pushing her hands off my face. “I know.” I punched her lightly in the arm. “Hey, what about you?” I asked instantly. “I saw who you were with before I pulled you in here.”

She blushed slightly.

Ten minutes earlier, when I had returned to the common room fuming with anger – I didn’t want to get tutored by the reigning Gryffindor Princess, Rose Weasley – and had run head first into a little conversation between my Emily Cook and her beloved, Professor Daniel Wood.

I had been so shocked I had just stared for a while, before Emily had begun to blush and I pulled her away. But I didn’t miss the loud, “I guess I’ll see you at Dinner!”

“Spill!” I urged, laughing.

This broke her blushing façade and she let out a gleeful giggle. “I know!” She screeched laughing happily, flopping back onto her own bed. “And I didn’t do anything! He totally came to me. Started talking about Eric, and the team, and whether or not I thought that our house needed extra advice. He said he’d be totally willing to give it to us.”

I smiled at her. This whole business with the teacher was really exciting her.

“And then I asked him how his day was, and he totally told me about the Quidditch!” She gushed.

Oh yes. I can see the Romantic intent there.

Not.

I laughed at her. “You’re lovesick!” I giggled. “Totally and completely...”

“Head over heels?” Emily finished for me. “I know!”

And even though I was in a state of depression moments ago, I couldn’t help but smile with her. I flopped back with her on her bed and hugged her. “I’m so happy for you!” I squealed.

For a couple of seconds, the fact that I was miserable and the subject of her crush was a professor meaning said crush was probably illegal made its way back into my mind. Professor Wood was old, Twenty Six or Twenty Seven. It wasn’t right for a sixteen year old to even hope she had a chance.

But her smile was amazingly contagious, and for a minute, I smiled back at her as though I was ecstatic for her.

“Lucius Malfoy was born in 1954, to Abraxas Malfoy and his wife.”

There are a few things in life that make life unbearable. I will list them for you, because honestly, I have nothing better to do. The Teacher talking in Monotone; Topics that make no sense; Homework that doesn’t end, no matter how much time you spend on it.

Plus, Eric, who was sitting behind me in class, was entertaining himself pulling my hair, doing artwork on the back of my shirt, moving my chair, stealing things from me. Etc. Etc. Etc.

“He started Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 1965, and was sorted into the Slytherin House. In his fifth year, he was elected Slytherin Prefect. He was part of a group of bullies in Slytherin, which contained almost all the Hogwarts students who graduated to join the dark side.”

Professor Binns, being a ghost, was around in the time of Lucius Malfoy’s school days. You would think that would make this class a tad bit more interesting for us. But alas, Professor Binns had a way of making the dark side sound boring.

And also, he made our war sound Star Wars-y.

That was a bit entertaining, I suppose.

I lifted my head from my arm, and managed to wipe away the soon to be drool coming out of my mouth. I looked around at my classmates. I had accepted that Eric was entertaining himself with my embarrassment, so I hastily grabbed my ponytail before it ended up in an Ink pot.

Beside her, Oscar was folding a small paper crane. Three others which he had already made were contained, with their feet stuck between his books. They were all struggling to break free though.

Right in front of me, Sabriel Malfoy was scowling at Professor Binns. Next to her, her best friend Indiana Stephens, was angry too.

Though I didn’t blame Malfoy, I guess.

It was one thing to be bored out of your mind at this stage, but to be listening to a lesson about your evil and demented Grandfather? It would have annoyed me to the end as it obviously had Malfoy. Her finger was twitching violently and she was sending horribly vivid death glares in the good Professor’s direction.

She was the younger sister of Scorpius Malfoy, with the largest crush on James Potter. It was almost disturbing how much she worshipped the feet of her brother’s best friend’s brother. It was almost worse than Emily’s crush on the good Professor.

...

Almost.

But it did bode for entertainment. The whole feud between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy at school was something everybody knew about. And while Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy (currently being best friends) had set that fight aside, James Potter most certainly, had not.

He spent a majority of his time reliving his grandfather’s days and wreaking havoc on the school, and teasing the Malfoys. His brother Albus, who had obviously fallen into the fabulous looking category even before he was seventeen, was the target of his jokes too. It would seem that every single generation has the tricksters in the Weasley or Potter family.

I would probably die of embarrassment if any of my family members attempted to be funny.

Especially considering the only wizards and witches who could do that is my Mother and my father who are both embarrassing enough as it is.

Yes. I would pass on that whole entertainer phase.

I was halted from my thoughts, when a piece of scrunched up paper collided with my nose. I jumped and let out a small yep which gained the attention of everybody in the class.

“During the absence of He Who Must Not Be Named, Malfoy denied ever willingly working for him. He claimed to be under the influence of the Imperius curse...”

Everybody in the classroom, save for Professor Binns, it would seem.

I blushed and looked down at the note, opening it up without trying to make much noise. Everyone reverted their attention to their previous actions. Before reading the note, I looked up to see who had thrown it.

Emily was smirking at me, pink in the face from not laughing.

I scowled, and looked down at the parchment.

You taking notes?

I frowned at her, glaring. “No!” I mouthed to her and she rolled her eyes. I grabbed my quill, turning briefly to steal some ink from Eric’s ink well. I know this stuff off by heart. Who doesn’t know about the war? Anyway, shouldn’t you be taking your own notes, Mrs Emily Wood?

I threw the parchment at her, aiming to hit her in the nose, but I missed and she caught it as it rolled onto the desk.

She read it, rolled her eyes once more and then scribbled something furiously onto the paper. Then she tossed it back in my direction. This time I caught it, lunging forward and catching it right before it smacked into Sabriel’s Malfoy’s head. I pulled it back to my chest before throwing Emily a murderous look.

I heard Eric’s snort behind me and Oscar was smirking too.

Don’t even go there. Crushes are a normal part of a teenage girl’s life. You’re the odd one out here. When was the last time you liked a guy she had replied on the paper. And I’m willing to bet you ten Sickles that you are the only one in here that already knows about Lucius Malfoy.

I smirked down at the paper. Sure. I scribbled back almost instantly. I threw it at her and this time it landed neatly in her lap. She lifted it and read it speedily. And Crushes are normal but not when their crushes on teachers. That’s disturbing. And I liked Orlando Bloom last year.

She smirked when she saw the writing. You’re on. Ten Sickles. We’ll ask when class is over. And Orlando Bloom doesn’t count. He is a muggle, he’s famous and he’s never ever going to meet you in his life. Plus he’s like forty.That is so hypocritical of her. And you just don’t understand the bond that Professor Wood and I share. It’s an immortal love. You have to be emotionally mature to grasp concepts such as our love.

I stared at the paper. Emotionally mature? What was they supposed to mean? I’m emotionally mature.

And as for the Orlando Bloom comment, she is obviously mad.

Probably correct, but mad all the same.

“Lucius Malfoy lived in Azkaban Prison for the rest of his life, until he died three years ago. He is buried at the prison in a marked grave, paid for by his widowed wife and son, Draco Malfoy. His Wife, Narcissa Malfoy, is still alive and was freed from Azkaban a year before her husband’s death. Draco Malfoy recently married Astoria Greengrass and has two children, Scorpius and Sabriel Malfoy.”

Honestly, the man is so out of it. He is educating one of the students about her grandfather and father and herself!

It’s ridiculous.

Sabriel Malfoy seethed so much it was almost as though steam was exiting her ears. Everyone leaned away from her a bit.

I received a hit in the head from another ball of paper. I glared at Emily while undoing it. You’re hair’s got ink on it.

I turned in my seat and threw a murderous look at Eric who was smirking brightly back at me. “You.” I hissed, “Are buying me new shampoo.” I risked a look at the back of my shirt. “...And a new uniform.” I added angrily.

Eric just smirked. He could be a fabulous Quidditch Player ready to help Hufflepuff win the Grand Final, but he was a Dork for the rest of the time. Grumbling I turned back around, examining my pony tail.

Poo-head.

The class ended after about five more minutes of unnecessary rambling courtesy of Professor Binns, and when he did finish everyone leapt to leave. Emily stopped them, standing on her chair and clapping her hands together. Professor Binns had already floated through the wall, so we were all safe from detentions.

“Who already knew about Lucius Malfoy?” She asked loudly.

No one raised their hand. Emily looked triumphant for a second before Sabriel scoffed. “Get off the chair, you freak. Of course I know about him.”

Emily frowned. “Merlin, Malfoy...” she said quietly. “Bitter because James Potter has left and he left poor Malfoy behind? No need to bitch because the unfortunate recipient of your affection has gone.”

Sabriel scowled at Emily but strutted out of the room, with a small “Hmph...”

Emily jumped off the chair and I greeted her with a high five. “You beat Sabriel Malfoy in another banter of wits, congratulations.”

Eric and Oscar joined us. “It wasn’t exactly a battle of wits, Katie. Malfoy called Em a freak and Em, being superior in every way, shot her down.” Oscar corrected me.

Eric shook his head, “I don’t know. I saw some wits a battling.”

Everyone laughed at that. I held out my palm in Emily’s direction. “Sickles, please.” I demanded smirking.

Emily scowled but dug around in her shoulder bag pocket. She produced the silver coins and dumped them, grumbling, into my open hand.

“Ta...” I said smugly.

Review Please. I hope you liked it. There will be more appearances of Rowling’s characters coming up. I hope you liked this chapter. It has a little more insight into the Emily-Katiey relationship – Friendships are a good thing. And it also has more about Katie’s insecurities which I figured would be good to introduce.